


Broken, Not Defeated

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aether Sex (Final Fantasy XIV), Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Petting, Multi, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Berylla Seahawk and the Scions return to Eorzea. They have done the impossible and freed Doma...Now, for the hard part.
Relationships: Alisaie Leveilleur & Warrior of Light, Alphinaud Leveilleur/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the third volume of Berylla's shenanigans! For those new to this, you may wanna catch up, since this will be starting part way through the Stormblood MSQ storyline...  
> I will be updating more slowly this time around - details in the end notes!
> 
> Alisaie and Alphinaud are aged up in this fic: they are 18 at the start.  
> There will be negotiations in regards to relationships between Alphinaud, Berylla, and Aymeric.

The ship was called the Bittern, and her captain was a remarkably quiet Roegadyn with the rather wonderful name of Worthy Sea. I wasn't really surprised that his crew usually called him just “the Captain.”

We all settled into a routine quickly enough. For me, the morning meant being examined briefly by Alphinaud; every day he did a little more healing on my arm. Then Alisaie would show up and take me up on deck to stretch and move. Sometimes, after, I'd just sit in the sun and rest. Sometimes not. Evening would eventually come, and we'd eat in the captain's great-room; sometimes with Captain Worthy, sometimes not.

I couldn't practice with an axe, of course. Mine had been lost in the battle and I wouldn't be able to replace it until we reached Limsa, most likely.

This particular morning, Alisaie had decided to change the kinds of exercises she wanted me to do. Instead of slow stretches, she spun and lunged, and her hands followed a flowing pattern like nothing I had ever seen. It was almost like the practice exercises that Hien had shown me, but not quite.

I clumsily copied Alisaie's graceful motions. Maybe she was adapting some kind of dancing; I was lousy at dancing. But my awkwardness slowly melted away in how good it felt to move my body. I'd been laid up for ten days now since we took ship. I was sick and tired of feeling sick, and tired.

Lyse came up when Alisaie was finished with me and grinned. “Fancy a go?”

I eyed her. I didn't need the sling anymore, but I still had that damned cast on my arm. “What're you thinking about?”

“Kicks and ground work,” she answered promptly, and I knew then that she'd been planning exactly this for a while already. I considered for a moment more, estimating how tired I was and whether I could actually handle sparring. Then I nodded. Lyse was a damn good teacher, really – I could trust her not to hurt me and not to let me hurt myself too much.

I was glad of my decision fifteen minutes later, as I lay on the deck, heart pounding, laughing and cursing and trying to break her iron grip on me. “You rotten cheat!” But there wasn't any real heat in my curses. Being able to _do_ something that felt like fighting and not like dancing – something I was really not good at – oh, it was wonderful. I felt more like myself than I had since dragging myself free of the wreckage.

I got my good arm into the right position and with a flurry of twisting limbs, I was free. But only for a second – Lyse was still way better than me at all this kind of fighting, and before I could get back on my feet, she'd pinned me flat on my back. She sat on top of me, her knees on my ribs, and brought her hand near my throat. “Yield already!” she laughed.

Alphinaud's heart leaped into his throat for an instant when he caught sight of Lyse straddling Berylla, one hand on the big warrior's neck. He had remained below after the morning session of healing Berylla's arm – which at this point was mostly a matter of feeding her extra energy to allow her own remarkable recuperative abilities to continue their work. But he had needed to tidy up his healing kit, now that he had run through all the valerian tincture that he had made up in Kugane. He knew that Alisaie would be taking Berylla through a set of basic exercises, and had hoped to come up on deck to sit beside the warrior as she rested in the sun after the exercise session.

He had not expected to come out here and see Berylla attempting to do herself a brand new injury!

Fortunately, he caught sight of his sister, and her expression, and reined in his reflex to shout at the two women wrangling on the deck in front of him. He confined himself to a small frown, and took up a spot on a crate, out of the way of the chaos.

Alisaie sidled her way up to him, and gave him a sideways glance as Berylla yielded and allowed Lyse to help her up. “You could stand to do a bit of exercise, yourself,” she murmured to him.

He only scoffed, and crossed his arms. He was not inclined to let his sister show him up in such a way. It was quite bad enough that she had pestered him for the last ten days, giving him not a moment's peace – much less a moment or two alone with Berylla... He shook his head and pointedly ignored Alisaie's smirk.

When his sister joined in the sparring, he let himself watch Berylla's moves closely, telling himself that he was merely being conscientious and assessing how well she was recovering.

It was true enough, after all. No matter that he also took a great deal of pleasure in simply watching her. The abbreviated top she wore displayed a great deal of her belly and back; the sun gleamed on the fine sheen of sweat that she had raised, accentuating the ripple of her muscles. Her hair was a wild thing, escaping its tie with abandon, and the wind played with it.

Alphinaud sighed, wishing he could do the same. Perhaps he might persuade Berylla to let him help her brush and braid her hair, later. At least then he would have an excuse to run his fingers through those silken strands... He did his best to assume a casual pose, and waited.

The sun set, in a grand display of scarlet and gold. Captain Worthy declared that since there was going be a blow, we would wait out the storm. We stopped at a tiny spit of an island – truly nothing worth mentioning, boasting a single cluster of twisted, scrubby trees – but it was enough to give us some small shelter and a solid place to anchor for the night.

The crew had hauled in a huge number fish this afternoon, and now I saw why.

There was going to be a bit of a party.

There was no chance for we passengers to do more than gawk a little; the galley had been going all out since the afternoon and great pots of fresh fish stew were being brought up onto the deck almost as soon as the anchor dropped. Crates were dragged around a bit and rough tables thrown together. Bottles appeared that had never been in the galley, mostly rum – though the captain had a rather fine whiskey, which made me grin and glance sideways at Alphinaud. He caught my look and his ear tips went a bit pink, and I grinned wider. I wondered if he still had that bottle of Lorelei, that we'd shared all those months ago.

Once the drink and the food were set out, there was no ceremony about it – everyone dug in, bottles and mugs shared around, and if there wasn't a lot of chatter, the quiet was a friendly sort of quiet, as soothing as the slap of the sea against the hull. Even Alphinaud ate heartily. Fresh as the fish had been, everything tasted great.

Then, the minute that all the food was gone, there was practically an explosion of hustling activity. I found myself laughing slightly as all of us Scions, and Yugiri, perched up on the steps leading to the quarter-deck to keep out of the way. The rough tables were cleared and the crates all pulled back to make a big empty space; the pots and dishes vanished along with some of the crew. But in a handful of minutes the galley crew was right back up on deck – and so were half a dozen sailors who'd vanished below. They were carrying instruments. One of the galley men had a pair of little drums, too.

The crew buzzed with pleased anticipation, the impromptu musicians arranged themselves on a section of crates, and the real party started.

I clapped along with the catchy sea tunes, sang with the ones I knew, and watched with delight as Alisaie jumped right in to dance alongside the sailors. She demanded to be taught the hornpipe, and mastered it in moments, much to everyone's delight and her own. Yugiri seemed intrigued and made the attempt as well, though she was not quite as successful.

Then the musicians struck up a reel. Without any worries about “proper partners” - or dignity of rank – two lines formed and the crew started the rollicking dance, clapping and shouting. Lanterns lit everything with a soft glow that seemed to drive back the clouds gathering in the sky, and the first rumbles of thunder were more like a background humming, adding to the music.

One full trip of the reel went by. Alisaie was in her element, eyes shining, her mouth wide with laughter and smiles. I had never seen her so purely happy. I glanced over at Alphinaud, to see him grinning almost as widely as his sister.

He glanced at me, and a sly look bent his smile a little. Then he was on his feet, grabbing my hand, pulling me up and into the dance.

“Hey, wait a minute – ” _I'm no good at dancing!_

But he wasn't going to let me pull away easily, and by the time he let go of my hand we had joined the line and the music was swirling all round. My skin felt tingly and my mouth went a little bit dry – but the way everyone smiled and laughed eased my nerves just enough. _I'll probably step on someone's foot sooner or later. Oh well, I guess?_

Alisaie was the one across from me. The second that the turn changed, she practically leaped forward and grabbed both my hands, and before I knew it I was being spun and tugged and somehow managing to follow her lead and with a breathless laugh it was over and I was back in the line.

I was still blinking in slight confusion when the reel ended and the line broke up.

The next song was something quieter, and most everyone headed for the mugs and bottles that had somehow all ended up on the other side of the deck from the musicians. But I saw Captain Worthy bowing to Alisaie and taking her hand – and then I felt a hand on my wrist.

Alphinaud tipped his head up to look at me. “May I?”

My cheeks were warm, and it wasn't the whiskey.

I nodded once.

Maybe we looked ridiculous – he was still a head shorter than me, after all. I had never cared much about what other folks thought about such things, though, and for once it seemed like Alphinaud didn't give a hoot about appearances either. I found myself moving in time with him, following the gentle motions, as if I actually knew what I was doing. I didn't feel graceful – but I didn't step on his foot either, and _that_ felt like a miracle.

The music was over too soon. Alphinaud made a courtly bow over my hand, and brushed his lips across my knuckles, and I saw Alisaie laughing and knew that my face was red.

After that, the music was back to fast paced things. I didn't get the chance to sit down again until the musicians got tired.

Even with the instruments put away, it was obvious the crew wasn't quite ready to stop for the night. Someone started to sing a very old sea shanty, and before long it seemed like everyone had joined in. This one had to do with the sea as one's lover, and it was sweet and slow and just a little bit sad.

The quiet after was interrupted by a louder rumble of thunder, and Worthy stood up.

“That's that, lads. Batten down for the night now. We sail at sunrise.”

The storm started in earnest just minutes after we got below, rain coming down hard and making a thunder of its own against the hull. The wind screamed among the masts and seemed to want to pry at the portholes. The ship creaked a little as the waves tried to tug her away, and I could feel the anchor tugging back. To me it was a very _solid_ feeling, reassuring: the ship would be fine. But I knew someone who would probably not find reassurance – or sleep.

We were sharing space, this trip: Lyse and I in one cabin, Yugiri and Alisaie in another. Alphinaud had claimed the last available room. Lyse laid down on the top bunk and was fast asleep in moments once I put out the lantern. I imagined the other two girls were sleeping too; I wasn't worried about _them_.

I quietly left my cabin and stepped into the corridor. Sure enough, Alphinaud's lantern still glowed, making a little line of light under his door.

I tapped quietly, and waited.

He opened the door just a crack, and when he saw me, he let me in.

“Working late?” I asked him, though I knew that wasn't why the lantern still burned.

He sighed. “I find that I cannot sleep. I should have anticipated this...”

“You could take a dose of that stuff you were giving me,” I suggested.

“Alas.” He swiped at his bangs. “I gave you the last dose I had prepared.”

“Oh...”

“Do not think it any fault of yours, Berylla.” He came close to me and brushed his fingers across my cheek. His smile was rueful. “I simply did not include myself in my calculations, when I was making the medicines to take with us on our journey home.”

I set my good hand on his shoulder, and rubbed gently. I could feel the tension in him.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” _I have a couple ideas that would definitely wear him out._

He gave me a lopsided smile, and I blushed a bit. He knew exactly what was on my mind. But I didn't look away from him. It had been nigh impossible to get any time alone, and I had been thinking about him a _lot_. About what he had done to me...and about our agreement.

He slid his arms around my waist and I hugged him, curling my good arm across his shoulders and resting my forehead against his.

“I confess,” he murmured, “I would welcome your company. It is...easier, when I am not alone.”

“Okay. I'll stay as long as you want.”

He didn't say anything else, just slowly pulled away, and tugged me towards his bed.

He gestured to show me that he wanted me to get in first, and I obeyed that unspoken request. My right arm was at least recovered enough that I didn't have to struggle to lie down. I still had to lie on my left side – but the bed was arranged so that I could do that and have my back up against the wall.

Alphinaud took a moment to dig around in a chest under the bed, coming up with an extra blanket. With gentle motions he tucked one blanket around me, then got into the bed and pulled the second blanket around himself. I wasn't quite sure how he managed it, but when he was done adjusting, I could put my arm over him without losing my blanket. The warmth of him against me was welcome: the temperature was dropping. _That rain out there is pretty damn cold_.

Before he settled down completely, Alphinaud put out the lantern, letting darkness and the sounds of the storm wrap around us.


	2. Rock the Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this is NSFW! But it might also be the last chance they have to be alone, for a good while... so can you blame 'em?

Alphinaud's heart beat faster as the light faded away. He kept his eyes open, letting the after-image of the lantern dance in his vision, distracting himself just a bit as he settled himself against Berylla. Her presence was so solid and warm – a bulwark against the storm outside. But he could not help the shiver that ran down his spine.

Her arm was around his middle, and she shifted, so that her fingers could lightly stroke his chest. It was a motion made awkward by the cast that yet imprisoned her right arm; but even that tiny touch helped him focus, helped push back the terror that little bit more.

He recalled once again how she had listened to him, when they had made the initial journey to Doma. How she had not mocked his fear, had not questioned him.

Berylla shifted, and murmured in his ear. “Talk to me. Maybe it'll help.”

He swallowed. “I...am not sure what to talk about.”

She was silent for a moment, and then, “How did you learn to dance like that?”

He smiled at that. “Why, I took lessons, of course.” When she nudged him, hissing exasperation, he chuckled. “Our mother insisted that both of us learn to comport ourselves with grace in all social situations.”

“How much socializing did you do?” She sounded mystified. “I thought you were busy with studying all the time.”

His shoulders shook as he suppressed his laughter, wanting to keep quiet. The wall between this cabin and the next was very thin; he had no intention of waking Lyse.

Once he had controlled himself, he explained,“Our parents held quite a few entertainments and parties, you see. And prior to our entering the Studium, we were expected to attend...to perform.” He was mildly surprised to realize that he still harbored a certain bitterness regarding his mother's demands.

“Perform? What, like singing and dancing? What the hell for?”

“Alisaie would have a great deal more to say on that than I,” he shrugged slightly. Despite the resentment, he found himself uncomfortable speaking of those old obligations. “After a year at the Studium, those expectations were changed,” he said instead. “But, part of what we were to do did involve dancing, usually with the guests at those parties. Sometimes with each other,” and he laughed quietly once more. “Mother said we were quite a picture, and did not like to let the opportunity pass by to display that fact.”

“So you grew up knowing how pretty you are,” Berylla said, her voice rich with humor.

Alphinaud's ears burned. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”

“How many hearts did you break, hm?”

“None.” His tone was flat, and he felt Berylla react.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I was just...”

He touched her arm. “I know. My apologies. It is...a sensitive subject.”

“Alisaie said something to me once,” Berylla hesitated. “That some girls had hurt you.”

“It is a sorry tale, and I was a fool,” Alphinaud's voice was tight. “I learned a valuable lesson.”

“If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.” Her arm tightened, pulling him a tiny bit closer.

He was silent for a long while, as the rain pounded down on the ship's hull and the wind sobbed.

“I had been very much willing to impress the young ladies of my set,” he finally said. His words were slow, and he found himself running his hand up and down Berylla's arm as he spoke. “I had met some of them before, but the older girls were not wont to attend the sort of parties my parents tended to hold. They were...elegant creatures.” His mouth twisted. “They professed themselves enchanted with my artwork. So of course I exerted myself...and I was rewarded with many a pretty smile and empty compliments.”

“What happened?” She whispered the words, and he felt how she leaned up just a bit, felt her breath across his cheek.

“I came upon them speaking to each other...they did not see me.” He swallowed hard. “Their words, in that moment, showed me what they truly thought of me. It was...unpleasant.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, hearing the sound of tearing paper, the snarl of canvas parting beneath the knife as he had destroyed the last painting he had ever made. He had believed then that his heart was broken. What an idiot he had been.

Berylla sighed. “I'm sorry, darlin'. I shouldn't have asked.”

“What?” His eyes popped open and he turned toward her.

She brought her hand up, fingers finding his cheek and then tracing the line of his jaw.

Then her lips met his in a soft kiss. His breath stilled in his lungs at the tenderness in that kiss.

I let my hand fall back to Alphinaud's chest, and eased back from the kiss. I rested my head against him, pressing my lips to his shoulder. I didn't know what else to say, or do.

Not for the first time, I felt like he and I were from completely different worlds.

I had vague shreds of memory when it came to being a kid, thanks to Marius and Nightbird and their efforts to help me remember. I knew I had been in and on and around boats, ships, docks, fish; from the time I could walk, probably, and definitely into my teenage years. The smell of the sea was something so familiar to me that I felt like it was in my bones. The rough manners, the colorful language, the strange split between kindness and cruelty among most of the people I had been around: that was what “socializing” meant, to me.

I grew up _loud._ Sea folks had no problem talking over other people, yelling from one end of the pier to the other, shouting from the rigging. Being praised meant “can I buy you an ale” and “good work today, now go the fuck to sleep.” Dancing wasn't really been much on anyone's mind – fishing folk didn't have time for that. You worked hard, and you hoped there was enough to fill everyone's belly at the end of a day.

The sea could give generously, but she was a treacherous bitch. She might take that bounty all back the next morning, and kill a few of you on top of it. It was possible to be happy, but there just wasn't room for much leisure.

No one _danced_ through that life.

No one displayed their children to others.

But even in a fishing village, pretty girls broke hearts because it was funny to them.

Part of me wanted to break those pretty faces, and I understood why Alisaie had spoken of them the way she had. But I knew better. _Being angry about what happened to him is dumb. Calm the fuck down, Berylla._

I held Alphinaud, gently, and breathed slow.

He turned on his back, and I felt his hand come up and touch my hair. A hesitant touch. Then: “Berylla, there is no need to apologize...”

“I dunno anything about,” I swallowed, “about fancy stuff like what you grew up with. But I didn't want to make you remember something sad.”

“I am not sad.” His fingers rubbed against my scalp. “I realized long ago that I never cared for those girls, no more than they cared for me. They were using me; and I was using them, in my own way. It was not a good situation, but I learned better.”

“And that's the other reason I was sayin' sorry.” I took a breath. “It's too easy for me to, to wanna protect you. But you don't need that. You can take care of yourself just fine...”

He shook all over for a moment, and when his lips met my forehead I could feel him smiling. “I admit that I am very pleased to hear you say that. I _would_ prefer to stand on equal footing with you.”

“Equal footing...” I sighed into his shirt. “I've been a useless mess these past days.”

“Hardly true. You've been recuperating.”

“I suppose that's a good thing right now.” My fingers traced a raised bit on his sweater. “If I wasn't injured, this would be...pretty damn tempting.”

“You do not give yourself enough credit.” He captured my hand and pressed his lips to my fingers. “I choose to believe that you would show restraint even without such obstacles.”

I made a little noise in my throat, not wanting to admit to the horny thoughts I was having right now. We had made our agreement. _No matter how much I want to get my hand under his shirt...just for starters...no, no, no, Berylla. Behave yourself_.

A clap of thunder startled us both. I felt Alphinaud's arms wrap around me, his fingers in my hair, and felt him pressing his cheek against my head. I held him close and did my best to soothe him, stroking his back. A faint scent rose from his clothes as I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder, something too ephemeral for me to really identify beyond the fact that I liked it.

After a minute, he relaxed again, and shifted his weight to lean up on one arm. My eyes, finally used to the darkness, could just make out his face as he leaned over me.

When he lay his mouth over mine, I had to fight hard not to pull him down to me. Letting him kiss me slowly, gently, was almost like torture. My heart raced and my breath was ragged.

He lifted his head, and I whispered against his mouth, “We sh-should try to, to sleep...”

“And sleep we shall,” he murmured. “But first...”

I gasped as I felt his aether sliding along my skin. He took my mouth once more, and I felt him throw one leg over mine. His hand curled at the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, as he deepened our kiss.

I clung to him, my right hand still awkward, and my hips rolled as his aether stroked me. The same thing he'd done to me in Kugane but – the tension, the pleasure, built so much faster this time. I wanted to whisper to him, but he wouldn't let me go. His tongue stroked in and out of my mouth, and I had just enough time to whimper before the climax hit me.

I arched beneath him, and he held me tight, stoking the fires inside me until I cried out.

Alphinaud panted quietly as he let Berylla down from the high of her climax; he rested his head against her, nuzzling her neck as she lay helplessly gasping for breath underneath him. He had told himself he would step back from this, but it had proved too much temptation. Feeling her warmth against him, her soft cries muffled by his kisses, was like strong liquor, and he wanted more.

He kissed the side of her neck, and felt her trying to tug at his clothes with her right hand. She was muttering under her breath.

“Let me – let me touch you, Alphinaud – ”

He stimulated her once more, knowing her body would react instantly to the touch of his aether, and she clutched at him, giving a low cry that made him grin wickedly into the darkness.

“Aaahhhhhhhh, dammit, Alphinaud!”

“Hm?” He kissed her neck once more, and laughed low in his throat. “What is it, my love?”

Gods, how he loved listening to the way she panted for him, the tiny whimpers and cries she seemed incapable of repressing. He wanted to make her _sing_ for him...

Her left hand fumbled down along his side, and then her fingers found his manhood, and stroked along his length. Even through his trousers, the sensation made him hiss with pleasure. He tensed, gritting his teeth with the effort of restraining his instinctive urge to rut against her hand.

Gods, but her touch was so much better than Mai's had been. No, no he must _wait_...as agreed.

Then, Berylla whispered into his ear.

“Alphinaud, I want to touch you.” She pressed her cheek to his. “I want to make you feel good, too. To make you moan for me... _please_ , Alphinaud.”

In spite of himself, a soft moan escaped him, and she made a delicious little sound of satisfaction.

He could not find it in him to resist her.

“Please let me,” I pleaded. “Let me touch you, let me pleasure you.”

Alphinaud was panting now, quivering with tension. “Yes,” he whispered.

He shifted his body, his hands busy on his pants, opening them and yanking them halfway down his hips. I moved away just enough to give him room to work.

He moved around so that he could put his back against the wall, and I eased up next to him. He slid one arm around my shoulders as I kissed him. I carefully nestled myself beside him, tucking my hurt arm between us to keep my left arm free.

I stroked my left hand down his body, listening to his breathing change as I curled my fingers around his cock. I felt, more than saw, a white piece of cloth flutter at his crotch and knew he had gotten some kind of handkerchief, was holding it in his free hand.

It was too dark to really see the cock I was handling, but it felt wonderful, almost velvety against my palm and fingers. It had a pleasing weight to it, too, enticingly thick and long.

I wanted to take him into my mouth, but I kept myself under control. We had agreed. Small steps. A little bit at a time.

I worked his cock with my hand, not too fast. He shuddered every time I stroked the head, and I could feel the trembling tension in him. I shivered a little myself, getting an incredible jolt of pleasure from hearing how he panted, feeling how his belly tightened. But I wanted to hear more than panting.

I turned my head, nuzzling his neck for a moment, then murmured into his ear. “Moan for me, darlin'. Let me hear you.”

There was no room in Alphinaud's mind any longer for the fear of the sea, of the storm. There was only Berylla – her touch on his body, her breath warm against his ear, the things she was whispering to him. Her fingers stroked his manhood deliciously, and he bit his lip to keep from crying aloud. Too good. Oh Thaliak, she was going to make him come _much_ too fast... but gods, the way his heart rejoiced just as loudly as his body...

The voice of the storm was drowned out by the rushing of blood in his ears, the rocking of the ship on the waves was nothing more than an echo of the rocking of his hips as he bucked into her hand. He let out another quiet, stuttering moan, and Berylla kissed his cheek, humming encouragement to him.

“So good,” she whispered, and he felt how she shook. Fluid had begun to seep from the tip of his cock and her hand made a lewd sound as the slick substance spread. He whimpered when Berylla's teeth gently closed on the tip of his ear. “Ahh, you sound so fucking sexy, Alphinaud.”

He hissed at the intense sensations she was causing. He clutched her to him, mouthing words that he hadn't the breath to even whisper. _Oh my beloved, my beautiful warrior,_ _ **oh**_ _...!_

His fingers dug into her shoulder, and then he was spilling his seed, groaning her name through clenched teeth. Rational thought faded completely in the glory of climax.

She was still nuzzling him when he came back to himself, but even as he twitched, she was sitting up just a bit and...he peered through the darkness. She was _licking her fingers_.

The rush of lust that sight raised in him made him momentarily dizzy.

“Are you all right?”

He dragged his attention back to her, and managed a breathless laugh. “Much more than all right.” He recalled the handkerchief then, and cleaned himself as best he could in the dark.

When he had pulled his clothes back into some semblance of order, they settled down on the mattress properly, but this time he remained on his back so that Berylla could pillow her head on his shoulder. He held her close, his eyelids already drooping.

For the first time in his life, the sounds of the sea did not trouble him.


	3. Cast, Away

Morning saw us on the move once more. The sky was gorgeous and the crew was in a mood as sunny as the weather was. We were making excellent time with a good wind and a following sea. The only thing that wasn't perfect about starting the day was that Lyse saw me leaving Alphinaud's cabin, and teased me unmercifully while I tried to get changed out of my night clothes.

But for all my blushing, I didn't regret spending the night with him.

On deck after breakfast, Alphinaud had a surprise for me.

“Taking up knife-work, are we?” I commented in a light tone. “That thing looks rather vicious.”

It did, too – the blade in his hand was slightly curved, short, and had a saw toothed edge. It tapered to a relatively fine point at the end, and the back of the blade was unusually wide, making the whole thing look just plain odd.

“No.” His tone was just a bit absent as he pointed me towards a stack of crates. There was a bucket of water nearby, and as he gestured, the miniature saw flashed in the sunlight.

I sat down where he indicated, eyeing him. He had that look on his face – brows pinched, eyes narrowed. He wasn't playing around, and whatever he was about to do, it was something he hadn't done often.

“Arm, please.”

I held up my right arm, and let Alphinaud use his free hand to guide it over onto another crate in the stack. The angle was a little awkward, but I scooted over a bit to try and help that. Alisaie walked up as I finished adjusting, and nodded to her brother. Then she positioned herself in a way that let her help hold my arm still.

Alphinaud lifted the saw, and began.

It took _ages_ to cut through the cast.

But then again, that vicious little blade was not something I wanted biting into _me_. I was content to let Alphinaud take all the time he needed to get the job done safely.

Finally free, I stood up, and flexed my arm, examining it. After running around all over the Steppe – not to mention the sea travel just getting to Doma – I had acquired a bit of a tan. I hadn't noticed the tan before. Even though I had only had the cast on for eleven days (or had it been twelve?), that part of my arm was fish-belly white, and the tanned skin of my upper arm made a sharp contrast. Pink lines squiggled across that pale skin, and I touched them gently. No pain: only the strange feel of scar tissue, shiny-slick and tighter than the surrounding flesh still. The scars would heal, too, and fade until they matched all the other little white scars I had in various places. But right now, they were all too obvious a reminder of just how close I had really come to dying back in that damned castle.

“Rotate your wrist,” Alphinaud ordered, having put the cast-saw away. “And move your fingers as well.”

Obediently, I wiggled my fingers, opened and closed my hand, and put my arm through a series of stretches that included plenty of rotating from wrist to elbow to shoulder and back. When I was holding still once more, Alphinaud set his hands on my arm and concentrated.

“Good,” he said after a moment. “No severe atrophy, the bones are finished fusing, and the joints appear to be none the worse for extended confinement.”

“Finally.” I sighed, pleased to have my arm back in working order.

Alphinaud raised one fine white eyebrow at me. “Most folk would require the cast for another four or five weeks, and yet be in some discomfort...if their arm could have been saved at all after such severe damage.”

“Well,” I set my hands on my hips. “I'm not most people, now am I?”

“No,” Alisaie's voice was dry. “You're a good deal more stubborn, and on occasion, not half as smart as most people.”

“Oi!” I glowered at her, then glared at Alphinaud when I caught him hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Warrior of Light you may be,” Alisaie huffed at me, crossing her arms, “but you still need to give yourself time to properly heal, and regain your strength.”

I curled my arm, making the bicep bunch up. “I feel fine. See?”

She scoffed, then pointed at the bucket of water that she had used to help clean the plaster dust and so forth off my arm. “Pick up the bucket, then.”

I stepped over and grabbed the bucket's handle, and hefted it up.

Except that it didn't heft. I grunted just a little – more in surprise than anything else – as the bucket sloshed instead of simply lifting up smoothly as it should have done. It didn't feel all that heavy, but it was strangely awkward and after a moment I had to set it back down, before I dropped it.

“What in the seven hells?”

“You haven't used the arm, not really, for more than a week. You have to rebuild a little strength now. It isn't much, and you'll probably be fine in a day or two, but you can't rush this, Berylla.”

It was my turn to cross my arms. I bit my lip, doing my damnedest not to pout. But I felt betrayed by my own body. _I'm supposed to be able to bounce back from anything, and dammit, I already waited all this time...!_

“Maybe this will cheer you up a bit.”

I turned to see Lyse – but what she held out to me in both her hands claimed my instant and total attention.

Gleaming, blued steel – a wicked edge, gleaming in the sun – a vicious, swept-back hook at the top of the axe's crest. Dragons had been etched into the steel, Doman dragons, dancing in sinuous patterns. The long, thick haft had been wrapped in bands of leather. She was the most beautiful axe I had ever seen.

“W-What?” My mouth wouldn't quite work. Lyse grinned.

“Hien wanted you to have this,” she said. “But you were in no shape for gift giving. So – he sent it with me, and told me to give it to you when you were ready.”

My eyes were stinging. _Must have gotten a bit of sea spray in them._

I reached for the gorgeous axe, and though I did have to struggle a little to keep my grip with my right hand, I did not let her fall to the deck.

She felt _right_ in my hands.

There were places along the haft where beautifully braided scarlet silk had been laid over the buttery-soft leather wrapping; they were perfectly placed in the spots where I would need them to be, no matter which particular grip I was using for the weapon. I stroked the silk for a moment, then grounded the axe so that I could more closely examine that lovely blued-steel axe head. It bore a mark just above the place where the tang of the blade met the haft – the maker's mark, and a set of Hingan characters that my Echo translated: _RIJIN_.

_A family weapon then. Gods, Hien..still giving me honor I plainly don't deserve_.

“Tomorrow, maybe we'll add her to the exercise sessions,” Lyse told me.

“And today?” I asked her, managing to drag my eyes away from the treasure in my hands.

“Today,” Alisaie answered, with a pointed look at her brother, “all of us are getting off our duffs and working out, together. High time we _all_ got back into fighting trim.”

Alphinaud started to frown. “I hardly think – ”

Alisaie cut him off, her words crisp. “I know, brother. But do trust me. You need this as much as Berylla does.”

Alphinaud faced his sister, fists up in a guard position, and waited.

Alisaie's left fist lashed towards his face, and he danced back to evade her, then snapped his own fist forward, landing a punch to her shoulder.

Alisaie shuffled back three steps, a snarl curling her lips. Then, as he had expected her to do, she leaped forward. She landed inches away from him, fist striking for his belly.

But Alphinaud was not there.

He stepped forward as Alisaie landed, weaving to one side so that he went past her. Then he shoved her in the soft spot between hip and rib-cage, knocking her off balance. Her foot left the deck, and Alphinaud's leg came up, then back – and he swept his sister's leg out from underneath her.

She landed on her rump with a curse. “Are you _still_ using that damned move?!”

“You still open yourself up to it.” Alphinaud shrugged, straightened up, and moved away from her, dusting at his sweater.

He did not like sparring with Alisaie. He did not enjoy sparring at all, really. But he admitted, very quietly in his head, that he did need to refresh his skills. He almost hadn't pulled off that leg sweep. He certainly would not admit it to his dratted sister, of course.

Berylla, leaning against the railing and watching their sparring match, gave a low whistle. “I didn't know you had moves like _that_ , Alphinaud.”

Alphinaud stalked over to the railing a few feet away from her, not answering. Alisaie sighed as she got to her feet, and Lyse grinned.

It was Alisaie who answered the unspoken question. “We both took lessons with one of Sharlayan's best instructors in unarmed combat. The same instructor Yda and Lyse probably learned from, in fact.”

Lyse, still grinning, nodded.

“Oh, really?” Berylla's eyes remained on Alphinaud; he could feel the interest in her gaze. “Seems unusual, for someone more inclined to magic.”

“I prefer to use my intellect to solve problems, rather than brute force.” Alphinaud shot Alisaie a sour look, which she loftily ignored. “That preference does not preclude my competence in the realm of physical combat.”

For all the bite in his tone, Berylla was grinning as widely as Lyse, now. Alphinaud tried to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks, and fixed his eyes on a patched place in one of the sails. He found himself much too flustered by the warrior's regard just now.

I saw how pink Alphinaud's ears were getting, and let him be. Lyse gestured to me, and I straightened up and followed her into the space where the twins had just been sparring.

The Bittern was very different from the pirate vessel we'd come to Doma on. She was sleek and fast; a bit narrower and longer than the Misery had been, with a deeper draft. A sturdy vessel and one well suited to handling rough seas. Without those secret ceruleum engines, the Misery would never outrun this fine lady.

That narrower shape, though, meant less space on deck. Fortunately the crew was fine with us taking over the space for half of every day. I got the feeling they had rearranged the work rosters so that they could take on tasks that kept them more in the rigging. And I knew for certain they spent some of their time up there watching our shenanigans down below.

The “exercise space” was just big enough to let all four of us go through the simple stretches and so forth together, but not so big as to allow for two pairs sparring. So Lyse had decreed that she and I would spar second.

I faced off against her, watching carefully. She was going to trounce me, of course, but winning wasn't the point of sparring.

For a while, I was able to keep dodging her punches, but I found myself getting winded a lot sooner than usual. I tried to get in a couple of hits myself, but the moment I went on the offensive, Lyse dropped me to the deck with a leg sweep – not quite the same move Alphinaud had used, but similar in effect. I stayed down, lying on my back, just breathing for a minute.

“Not bad for your first day out of the cast and all,” Lyse told me, as she went to one knee beside me. “No pain in the arm, then?”

“Nah. Just,” I coughed a little, clearing mucus out of my throat. “Just a little out of breath for some reason.”

“That'll come back quick enough,” she nodded. “You can laze about for the rest of today.”

“Laze about?” I gave her a half joking glare. She held out her hand to me, grinning, and I let her help me sit up.

“I think we'll spar with staves tomorrow,” she said as we got to our feet. “I know I said we'd use your new toy...”

I waved my hand. “I'm not an idiot, regardless of what certain smart-asses say.” I heard Alisaie snicker, but I didn't look her way. “It would be pure foolishness to try working with live steel before I'm really certain I can stay in control of my weapon. Staves will be fine.” Then I grinned at her. “But don't be surprised if I smack you in the ass. I'm better with the staff than I am at punching.”

Lyse just laughed.


	4. Blessed Quiet

Without the cast on, I pushed myself, testing where my limits were, then working steadily to increase that threshold. I moved and worked far more than I had been doing, more than I would have if we'd been in the field, even. I was exhausted that first night, and as often as I could manage it, I made sure I was at least good and tired before bed. But not every night was that possible, because of our occasional dinners with Captain Worthy.

The man was not as friendly as Carvallain had been – but then again, he was the sort of captain who was very hands on, and he took the first night watch five nights out of every seven. On most nights, we ate at his table, in his great-room, but we didn't actually see him, for he was usually finished before we showed up. Even when he was present, though, there was no real fuss. Just conversation.

Unfortunately, the captain was also not very sensitive about certain subjects.

“People do say the most outrageous things,” the captain laughed, as Lyse finished another little anecdote of her misadventures in talking to the various residents of Onokoro. “And sometimes they don't even realize it.” He finished his goblet of wine.

But when Worthy spoke again, all of us lost our smiles.

“I never credited the rumors about all you Scions,” he told us, with an earnest look. “Teledji Adeledji was a vicious wharf rat, and the Syndicate is well rid of him, not that a simple sea-captain has any say in their high and mighty doings.” He laughed, then. “Not once did I believe that load of rotten chum his people tried to pass 'round, that the Scions were wanted for crimes against the Sultanate. Daft, that, and I made sure all my men knew it too.”

He rose, then, and bade us a good night; without waiting for our murmured replies, he vanished through the double doors that led to his quarters.

We returned to our own little “sitting room,” and sat down at one of the tables. Alisaie and Alphinaud flanked me, even though it meant Alisaie had to kind of perch on the end of the bench.

All of us were very quiet for a while.

“It's strange,” Alisaie murmured at last. “Strange to realize how long it's been...”

“Two years since we left Sharlayan,” Alphinaud nodded.

“Stranger to think about how much has changed.” Lyse leaned her elbows on the table. Her eyes were dark and I knew she was thinking about Papalymo.

I rubbed my cheek with a knuckle. Under the table I felt Alphinaud's hand find mine, and when he squeezed my fingers, I squeezed back.

“I'm just...” I swallowed. My voice was tight. “Even now it still hurts to think about what happened in Uldah that night.” I covered Lyse's hand with my own. “All the ones we've lost.”

Alisaie leaned into me, and put one arm across my shoulders. “But there remain so many that we can yet save,” she reminded us all, her voice quiet and confident.

Alphinaud's fingers tangled with mine, tightly, and I bent my head.

The nightmares came for me again that night, and I lay in my bunk, staring up at the wooden frame, trying not to cry.

I knew the difference between a vision and a plain old dream. These nightmares about Zenos though – they felt so strange, as if they were half way between the two. _That can't be possible, though. Either I'm seeing the future or I'm not. Right?_

But true vision or not, my heart still pounded and my head hurt a little from clamping down so hard on the urge to weep. This one had been particularly nasty; Zenos had gotten his hands on me.

My skin crawled.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. _Maybe if I take a walk, I can get this out of my head. Just get a little air._

“Wanna talk about it?”

I started, and looked up. Lyse was leaning over from the top bunk, gazing down at me. Outside, the moon was rising; faint pale light filtered into the cabin and made strange shadows. Her eyes picked up the wan moonlight and gleamed at me, silver instead of blue.

“Sorry,” I managed. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Sounded like a pretty bad dream,” she observed, then she was down out of her bunk and sitting next to me. She bumped her shoulder into mine. “Come on, give over. What's wrong?”

“It was just – ” I sighed. “I've been having bad dreams for a while. Since the Reach, just like Alisaie told you. The dreams are always about Zenos, and...they're weird. They only got worse after Namai.”

“Weird, how?”

I shivered, and hugged myself. “He _wants_ something from me, Lyse. I can't figure out why he spoke to me the way he did – except that he wants me. Like a lover. It's unnerving, and I – I don't want him to...to look at me like that.”

“Makes sense, that's pretty gods-damned scary.”

“That part, him coming for me, just upsets me. The thing that _scares_ me is the beginning. Because he – ” I choked, and had to try again. “Every time I have this nightmare it starts with me seeing you – all the Scions – dead at his feet. I can't...I couldn't handle it if all of you were gone.”

Her arm went around my shoulders. “Well, we're not gone. I'm right here.”

I put my hands over my face, but I bent a little lean into her hug. “I lost you all once before,” I mumbled. “I thought you were all dead, you know, after that damned Banquet.”

“I know.”

“I can't let it happen again, Lyse. I can't. But I don't – he's beaten me twice now, I don't know if I can actually keep you all safe from him – ”

“Sh, sh, sh.” She held me tighter, and I clenched my teeth together to keep from bawling. That didn't stop the hot tears from escaping, making my hands damp.

“S-s-sorry. I really should be over this shit by now, damn it.” I gritted my teeth, frustrated and still sniffling. “It's been what, two whole months? I'm being a big baby, aren't I?”

“You aren't. I've had my share of nightmares because of the Reach, too. Mine aren't like yours, of course. Mostly just...Meffrid...” She turned a little, and pulled me into a tighter hug. “That bastard Zenos will pay for what he's done, but you aren't going to beat him all alone, Berylla.”

I hiccuped, and opened my eyes to look at her. “Huh?”

“We'll beat him, I promise you that.” Her voice was like steel. “But I'm going to be there right beside you when we do it. I won't let him take you away from us, and I won't let you face him alone.”

I put my arms around her and buried my face against her neck. I couldn't speak, but thankfully, Lyse didn't need me to tell her out loud how much her words meant to me.

She just held onto me and let me cry a little more, her hands stroking my back in slow circles. When I finally got control of myself again, she let me sit up, keeping her hands on my shoulders as she regarded me.

“You don't lean on us enough, Berylla.”

“What? I rely on you all the time...”

“No, you don't, not really. You're always ready to just fling yourself at the enemy whether we're beside you or not.”

“Because I know you have my back,” I protested.

“Because you want to protect us all.”

“Well of course – that's my job!”

“It's not your job to take on everything and everybody, damn it.” She stroked my hair out of my face. For all the sharpness of her words, her touch was tender. “You could stand to take a little thought for yourself, a little time. You keep going like you have been – even the strongest stone will break under enough stress.”

“I do take time for myself. Sometimes.” I felt my cheeks getting hot. Spending time with Alphinaud surely counted, right? But I couldn't say _that_ to her. She'd tease me endlessly.

She shook her head. “Will you promise me that you'll come talk to me if you need it? Wake me up, even. I don't mind. I worry a little bit about you.”

“I'm f- ” 

Lyse grabbed my chin and I shut up. “Don't you dare say you're fine. Don't shove me off that way. Just because you're with Alphinaud doesn't mean the rest of us don't still care about you. Idiot.” And then she planted a hard kiss on my mouth, before wrapping me in her arms once more. “I can understand why Alisaie won't shut up about you sometimes. You could drive a saint to drinking.”

I sat there and hugged her back, feeling as if someone had come behind me and smacked me in the head. “I didn't...know you felt like that.”

“You're one of the best friends I've ever had,” Lyse said quietly. “It feels like the whole world has gone crazy since the Wall. Except you. I think all of us were hanging on to you just a little bit. But you know...” Her arms tightened. “You can hang on to us, too.”

“I plan to.” My voice was hoarse, and I quit trying to talk.

The time passed slowly – days spent on exercising and sparring, evenings spent playing cards or telling stories, sometimes telling those stories around the captain's table, sometimes not. None of the Scions wanted to think too hard about what they might find when they returned to Gyr Abania. Most of the stories were light tales, misadventures, jokes, and so on. But sometimes, the stories had a way of touching a nerve despite their efforts.

“And that was how she got her first red gown,” Alphinaud finished.

“You make me sound like a fishwife,” Alisaie grumbled.

“Oh, I apologize,” he drawled back. “You are, after all, a gadfly.” His eyes glittered at her, as he reminded her of how their mother had collapsed that so-memorable Starlight evening.

“You were glad enough of me and my willingness to stand up for us, when we were arguing with Mother and Father about coming to Eorzea,” Alisaie shot back, her ears tinged with pink and her eyes snapping with irritation.

“So your folks didn't want you to come to Eorzea,” Berylla spoke up, heading off the sibling fight, “but what _did_ they want you to do?”

“Mother had some nonsensical idea that she could marry me off to someone or other.” Alisaie snorted, and crossed her arms, glaring blackly at a knot in the wood of the table top. “Not that I would _ever_ have allowed such a thing.”

Alphinaud shrugged. “I expect Father might have begun nudging me towards governance, joining him in his work. Or perhaps I might have pursued higher studies. He would not have disapproved of that,” he glanced sideways at Alisaie, “for either of us.”

“So a good little wife, a good little government clerk, or a pair of book toting professors.” Berylla crossed her own arms. “Your parents didn't know a fucking thing about you, did they? Maybe you're better off here.”

Alphinaud shook his head, a wry smile curving his lips. “Eorzea means a great deal to me, and I will not give up all that I have accomplished here, nor will I leave my friends behind. But I _would_ like to visit my parents once in a while.”

“What for?” The warrior's tone was belligerent. Alphinaud frowned.

Alisaie spoke for both of them. “Berylla, you are hardly heartless. Sharlayan is our home. And they're our _parents_. No matter how annoying they can be at times, we still love them very much.”

“But if all they're gonna do is make you miserable – ” Berylla shook her head. “I wouldn't stay in a situation like that, much less go _back_ to it once I got out.”

Alphinaud felt his own temper rising. “How can you say such a thing?” he demanded of the big Roe. “Do you not feel the same affection for the Rising Stones, for the Scions?” Berylla blinked at him, startled by the sharp tone of his voice. He pressed her harder, knowing this was a low blow but unable to help himself. “Are we not, in our way, also your family?”

She bit her lip, looking away. “I – yeah, but...” She fell silent, squirming under two pairs of indignant cornflower blue eyes.

“What about _your_ parents, Berylla?” It was Lyse who broke the sticky silence.

Berylla shrugged. “Dunno.” She tapped the side of her head. “No memories, y'know.”

“I thought Nightbird helped you recover your lost memories,” Alphinaud cocked his head at her.

“She tried. Not just her, but...” Berylla paused a moment, lips pursed. He wondered for a moment who else she could be talking about. But then she was continuing. “Not sure why but...they could only bring back a few things. Like knowin' I grew up in a fishin' village, but not...names or anything. No details. No family.” She gathered up her hair and tugged it into a rough tail. “I ain't got no roots, even now. Not like you do. I guess I'll never really get it.”

“You are not stupid, Berylla.” Alisaie frowned. “You understand full well what family is, what it means to others.” She raised one eyebrow at the warrior.

“All right, all right. Yeah. I do. I'm sorry for sayin' anything.” Berylla sighed. “Hells, Alisaie. The Scions matter to me so damned much... Didn't you know that?” She bent her head. “An' it ain't like I've seen many shinin' examples of good parentin' – look at _Thordan_ , for fuck's sake.”

Alphinaud let the subject drop – for the moment.

“A week more, perhaps,” Captain Worthy told us, “and we'll be making port in Limsa. It's been a blessed quiet trip, and I'm sure we're all glad of that.”

I managed a smile, but the date on the calendar he'd just shown us was burned into my mind.

“Indeed we are. Thank you very much for keeping us informed, Captain.” Alphinaud's voice was pleasant, calm; no one looked my way, and I was glad of it.

The man bid us good night and we all went on to bed.

But as Lyse lay down, I looked at her. “I...I need to sit up a while.”

Her smile was sly. “Don't wear yourselves out too much.” Then she turned over so her back was to the door.

I shook my head, and stepped out of the cabin. At first I moved toward the sitting room – but then I found myself in front of Alphinaud's door, already knocking quietly, and he was letting me in and steering me by my elbow to sit down on the edge of his bunk.

I shivered, clinging to self control. _I don't need to cry. I don't. I just hadn't realized how the days were passing. I just need...I just need..._

Alphinaud's arms were around my shoulders, and my own arms had drifted up to hold his waist. I looked up at him, my eyes feeling like sandpaper.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, as he had back in Namai, that moonlit night. “Talk to me.” His hands stroked small circles on my shoulders and upper arms.

Alphinaud had noted the date – had seen when Berylla registered it – and he had known immediately why she had gone quiet and despondent.

Haurchefant, the Silver Knight, had died a year ago, today. He had perished saving Berylla's life, killed by the hand of one of the tempered knights of the Heavens' Ward. A year had passed, and so much had happened...but the Warrior of Light still grieved bitterly for that loss.

“I was not there for you, after the Vault,” he murmured to Berylla, soothing his fingers along the taut line of muscle from neck to shoulder. “If you will allow...I would remedy that, and offer you comfort tonight.”

She closed her eyes, and made a small sound. Her arms tightened around his middle and she pressed her cheek against him. He held her, firmly, and did not speak. But though her shoulders shook, she did not sob; no tears dampened his clothing. She clung to him, and for a long while she was silent. But when she did speak, her voice was steady. Thick with grief, haunted with sorrow, but not broken.

“I still miss him. So much.”

“As do I.” He stroked his fingers through her hair. When she sighed, and he detected a minute relaxation in the way she held him, he tried to think of something that would pull her mind away from the grief. “I wonder,” he mused, “what Haurchefant would have made of Doma?”

Berylla snorted. “We might never have pried him away from the pretty ladies of Kugane.” A faint chuckle shivered through her. “Or maybe the Steppe would have captivated him more.” She leaned back, just a bit, looking up at him. “So many splendid warriors, you know.”

Alphinaud smiled and tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear. “He would have been most impressed with Lord Hien as well.”

Her cheeks went red, and her mouth twisted up as if she were holding back laughter. “Most impressed.” She buried her face against him again. He wasn't sure quite what embarrassed her so, but he was content to hold her and not ask questions.

She sighed deeply after a time. “If only...”

_If only._ _**If only.** _ _If only I had been faster, or stronger. I could have saved Haurchefant. Or Minfilia. Or Gosetsu..._

My eyes ached. But there were no tears in me. Just the echoing emptiness, a place in my heart that felt... barren. A vacancy that could never be filled, a sentence that would never be commuted. It wasn't even pain. Just a weight, pressing down on me, stealing my breath like a boot to the chest.

“I know what you are thinking,” Alphinaud said. His fingers carded through my hair. “If only things had been somehow different. But what is in the past, is past. We must live with that, as best we can. He would say much the same, would he not?”

“He probably would.” I took a long breath, let it out, took another. “I've _been_ living with it. Not just Haurchefant's loss, either. I don't intend to give up. I just...” I sighed and leaned into him a little more. “I'm tired, Alphinaud. Tired of losing, tired of hurting people. Tired of thinking too damn much, tired of wanting what can't ever be.” I rubbed my cheek against his sweater. “I just want to rest.”

“Then rest, my love.” He stepped back a pace, and kissed my forehead. Then he gently pushed me to lie down, and got into the bunk with me, but not to lie beside me.

Instead he put his back up against the wall and tugged me until my head lay pillowed on his thigh. He gathered up my hair to spread across his lap, and tugged his blanket over me. “Rest,” he repeated. “I will be here, watching over you.”

“All night?” I whispered.

“All night.” He began once more to stroke my hair.

It was strange. The weight on my heart didn't go away. The hurting didn't stop. The road ahead of us was just as murky and gray as before. Nothing had changed. But it was okay. _I_ was okay.

I shut my eyes, and didn't dream.


	5. Storm Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home again - and already things are not going the way Berylla hoped.

Limsa's white spires came into view, and the crew let out a collective whoop, equal parts joy and relief. Then, they swung into action, eager to get the ship berthed at long last.

We Scions retreated down into the sitting room. Our things were packed. All we needed to do was stay the hell out of the way, and wait for Captain Worthy to call for us.

Alphinaud had a peppermint in his mouth, and this time, I knew why. During the somewhat chaotic movements that were an inevitable part of bringing a ship in to harbor, it turned out that he got very, very sea-sick. Peppermint was nearly the only thing that helped.

But at last the Bittern stopped jolting and swaying, and merely rocked gently; I could hear the crew shouting back and forth even before the door opened and Worthy leaned in to holler down at us.

Alphinaud was the first one out, his steps unsteady but quick; Alisaie was right on her brother's heels, looking as if she expected to see him losing breakfast any moment now.

But Yugiri and Lyse and I paused as we came out onto the deck. Yugiri bowed deeply and thanked the captain, and Lyse grinned and clapped the big fellow on the shoulder. I gave him a grin just as wide as hers, but kept myself to a respectful handshake.

Tataru had really thought of – and paid for – everything. There were no formalities at all. We just walked down the gangplank and onto the pier – and we were home.

The docks were, of course, noisy and crowded and far too chaotic for talk. We made our way up towards the customs offices, where there was always at least one pocket of quiet space where we would be out of the bustling traffic of merchants and travelers.

Alphinaud looked like he wanted to head for the inn, despite the early hour, but he was smiling even through that weariness. “Here we are, home at last. I must say, the journey passed more quickly than I had expected.”

“Perhaps we should have sought out another haunted island, hm?”

He glowered at her and she laughed, pleased to have nettled him. Then he pointedly turned his head away from her, and said, “We return better for the experience─and, more importantly, triumphant.”

Yugiri smiled. “Indeed. And with Doma freed of imperial oppression, it is only right that we turn our thoughts to the plight of Ala Mhigo.”

Lyse cocked her head at the shinobi. “Well, I'm all for that, obviously, but I think you should go and see the refugees at Revenant's Toll before doing anything else. They'll be thrilled to hear what we've accomplished, and it'd sound best coming from you.”

Yugiri looked surprised, then thoughtful for a moment. Then she looked up at Lyse and smiled again. “Thank you. I shall do as you suggest.” She bowed to us all once, and then she turned and melted into the crowd, gone before any of us could say another word.

“Decisive as always,” Alisaie grinned. Then her smile ran away as she looked at someone behind me and Alphinaud.

We turned to see the Admiral coming towards us, the crowd splitting before her – though no one stared at her. She met my eyes and nodded, but her smile was only a formality. “I see I am not too late.”

Alphinaud's voice held concern. “Admiral! What are you doing here?”

“The East Aldenard Trading Company informed me of your impending arrival. I have tidings I thought best to share with you in person.” Merlwyb put her hands behind her back – a sign that she was _not_ happy with those tidings.

“From Gyr Abania?” asked Lyse.

“Aye. The Alliance still holds the Wall, despite several imperial counterattacks. But we have been unable to press further into occupied territory.” Again, the thin, formal smile crossed her lips. “Commander Kemp and his men, meanwhile, have made great strides toward rebuilding their depleted ranks. They have even taken it upon themselves to attempt some few operations...with mixed results, I am sorry to say. It was a complication arising from one such venture which moved me to seek you out.” She lifted her chin, and my stomach sank.

_This ain't gonna be good at all._

“During a mission to transport wounded Resistance fighters to the Rising Stones, Krile Baldesion was taken prisoner.” Her pale eyes locked with mine. “As was Nightbird Kevala.”

The curse that burst from me was enough to make even Lyse turn paler. Alphinaud exclaimed, “What?! Do we know where they are being held??”

“At this time, we do not. But your comrades were informed at once, and I am told Thancred is in Gyr Abania looking for them as we speak.”

Alisaie's hand was on the hilt of her rapier, and Lyse looked just about ready to strangle something. Alphinaud's brows were drawn together as he frowned deeply. “How could this have happened...? We must seek out Thancred without delay!” He looked up, as if he might actually go pelting off right then. I watched his face as he forced himself to stop panicking. “Nay. Krile taught me better than that. It would be unwise to act without first acquiring a full understanding of the situation.” He cast a glance at the rest of us, and then turned back to Merlwyb. He bowed to her. “Thank you for informing us. Tired though we may be, we must make haste to Castrum Oriens. Pray excuse us, Admiral.”

“Follow me,” she told him, “and I'll see you onto my personal airship. She can get you to the Shroud faster than any other vessel in Limsa.”

As the four of us entered the castrum, I was in the lead. Soldiers noticed me and flinched out of my way; in my wake there were murmurs and I sensed swirls of movement, people milling about perhaps, or just finding anywhere else to be but in shouting distance of the command tent. I felt a flicker of something between irritation and resignation. _They act like lightning is about to strike them all. Hmph, if I was that badass I wouldn't need them around in the first place, dammit_.

Pipin saw me first, and waved. His gray eyes held sympathy, and not a lick of fear; he was so calm that it took a little of the edge off of my own attitude. “It is good that you are returned,” he nodded to us all. “You should speak with Thancred after you have greeted my father. He is waiting for you, with Arenvald.”

Two officers stood before Raubahn. They both saluted to us Scions, but their debriefing was clearly finished, and they took themselves away as the General turned towards me.

“Glad to have you with us again,” he rumbled. His eyes crinkled as he gave me a once-over, and his mouth turned up on one side. “Hmm...you seem stronger than I remember─hard though I find that to believe. One would almost think you'd spent the whole time fighting.” The glint of humor stayed as he put one hand on my shoulder. “Well done, by the way.”

Alphinaud stepped forward, pulling his satchel off his shoulder. The General nodded. “I shall not keep Alphinaud for long. The rest of you make your way to the Reach; best that you get the news direct from the source as it were.”

I was the first one to land. Arenvald and Thancred both came up, even as M'Naago dashed up to grab my chocobo's halter. “It's good to see you again,” she told me, but her ears were flattened and her tail was drooping. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Me too.” But my eyes weren't on the Miqo'te.

Thancred touched Arenvald's shoulder. The young paladin had his eyes fixed on me.

“I'm sorry, Berylla.” His voice was hoarse. “It's all my fault...”

I clenched my fists and my teeth and forced myself to take one breath, then another. “Tell. Me. Everything.”

Alisaie took a step, putting herself just in front of me. “We heard only the broad strokes, so please, start from the beginning.”

Thancred nodded as Lyse joined us. “Krile, Nightbird, and a squadron of Resistance fighters were escorting Y'Shtola and several other wounded to the Rising Stones for further treatment when they were ambushed by imperial forces.” He gestured. “The wounded were targeted, but barely touched, in a most uncanny show of restraint. Arenvald and his men fought valiantly, but in the chaos...”

Arenvald shook his head fiercely. “I will make no excuses! We failed to protect her.”

I was trembling with the effort of holding in my feelings – not just rage anymore, but I knew this wasn't the time to start shouting. Alisaie laid one hand on my arm, easing me back a step, and took over.

“Do not be so hard on yourself,” she told Arenvald. “You protected Y'shtola and the others, did you not? Tell us about the attack.”

“It was the Skulls. They knew a path across the Wall we hadn't found. We thought we were safe once we reached the Black Shroud.” He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “We weren't expecting an ambush...” Then he lifted his head once more. “During the fighting, I caught a glimpse of their leader's memories. It was all _planned_.”

“The advantage of having a Walker in the field,” said Alphinaud. I turned to see him striding up, his poor chocobo looking winded. _He must have pushed the beast as hard as he could to catch up with us._

Arenvald nodded, his face reddening for an instant. “I'm not as strong in the Echo as Berylla is, of course. Half the time, it's enough to knock me on my arse, like I've taken a dose of concentrated aether.”

Lyse brought him back on topic. “So you walked in Fordola's memories. What did you see?”

The paladin's lip curled. “A woman promised the world─education, training, citizenship─all that and more if she but sold her soul. A traitor to her people, a pretender to her masters.” He shook his head, and then continued, glancing at me for an instant before returning his gaze to the others. “It was Zenos himself that gave the order. Told her to return with Krile Baldesion and the “other one.” Alive.”

“Other one?” Alisaie wondered.

“Our agents have been carefully monitoring imperial communications since the attack,” Thancred told us, “but have yet to intercept any transmissions making reference to the prisoners or their current whereabouts.”

Alphinaud's eyes lit. “If their orders were to bring Krile back alive, we can save her if we move quickly enough.”

I exchanged a glance with Lyse, and my rage sputtered out as it occurred to me _why_ Zenos might have demanded Echo-bearers be hauled before him, alive...but only the women. They hadn't had orders to capture Arenvald, also a known bearer of the Echo...

I felt sick to my stomach. I saw the same sick fear in Lyse's blue eyes. She gripped my upper arm, and I nodded once, taking more deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

In the seconds that our exchange took, Thancred had shaken his head and shot down Alphinaud's hope. “As you say, time is of the essence, which is why I intend to slip past enemy lines and see what information I can uncover on my own.” He leveled a stern look at the scholar, and then at the rest of us, his eyes resting last on me. “In the meantime, it is up to you and our allies to command the imperials' undivided attention. Lots of shouting and explosions and so forth. Keep them distracted, and I will find our friends.”

“Cause chaos and destruction and spread confusion among the enemy?” I bared my teeth. “Practically my specialty, ain't it?”

“Just so.”

Alphinaud sighed, and swiped at his bangs. “Very well. I wish I could do more to aid you, but I understand.” He glanced over at me, then back at Thancred.

“Commander Kemp is on his way to the castrum as we speak for a meeting with General Aldynn. If you hurry, you could find him on the road, and discuss the situation beforehand.”

Arenvald began to move, and I held up one hand. “You've already debriefed, yes?” As soon as he nodded, I pointed at the ground. “Stay put.”

I turned on my heel and went to get Midnight. I heard Lyse speaking, but I didn't pay attention. When Lyse came up beside me and vaulted into her bird's saddle, I waited only a moment, to see if any of the others were also heading our way. Then I signaled Midnight and we took off.

“The others will be along,” Lyse told me as our birds flapped to gain height. “I told them patience isn't one of my virtues.” She paused. “You didn't have to be cruel to him, Berylla. He feels bad enough as it is.”

“He hasn't got anything to add to this meeting,” I answered, my words clipped. “And I don't want to look at him too much right now. I need more time to calm down.”

“It's not his fault.”

“I know. That's why I'm not punching him into the dirt this instant, Lyse.”

“What has you so pissed? This is way more anger than the situation calls for.”

“Nightbird's pretty much my sister, in all the ways that matter to me. I just – I just found her, you know what I mean? And you know as well as I do what the Imperials are likely to do to female captives...” I swallowed hard. “My head knows we have to do this with planning, with tactics. But my heart and my gut are screaming at me, Lyse, screaming for me to fling myself at those damned Imperials right this instant and get her out of there.”

She was silent. I wrestled down the panic once more, and finally as our birds began a glide over the Velodyna, I spoke again. “I won't do anything stupid. And I'll talk to Arenvald again later, and fix it if I hurt his feelings. I promise you, I'll let Alphinaud and the General plan out whatever they think will work.” My voice dropped to a growl then, as I spoke more to myself than to her. “But Halone take any Imperial that gets in my gods-damned way.”

We landed on the road a dozen yards ahead of Kemp and his escort. The old man waved at us both, and we brought our birds into step with his, walking alongside him.

“Well, well! Isn't this a pleasant surprise! It fills my heart with joy to see you two hale and healthy.” Then his smile faded. “I assume you've heard about the ambush.”

“That's why we're here,” Lyse nodded. “I'm still not sure what to think about it...but we'll save Krile, and Nightbird. We'll definitely save them somehow.”

“Aye, I've no doubt that you will.” Kemp gave her an appraising look, and nodded. “You look stronger for your time in the Far East, lass, and that's good news for all of us.”

She blushed and shook her head. “I'd like to think so. But enough about me─how is everything with you and the Resistance?”

Conrad grinned, and his bird whistled as if also answering. “Better than when you last saw us, and no mistake. Arenvald's been a gods-send. Him and M'naago and all the other young-bloods have achieved so much in such a short time. We've been blessed to receive the support of the Flames' Ala Mhigan Brigade, who've been instrumental in freeing our countrymen from labor camps throughout Gyr Abania, as well as some political prisoners from the city proper, believe it or not.” He looked especially pleased about that. “Together with the refugees returning from Ul'dah and elsewhere, we've had no shortage of able-bodied men and women eager to join the cause.”

Lyse looked just as much relieved as proud. “I knew you wouldn't stop fighting, even after what happened at the Reach.”

A crooked smile crossed the old commander's face. “Force of habit, I suppose. Though we've come a long way, we still have far to go. But we'll fight for every scrap of ground, and sooner or later, we'll get to Ala Mhigo.” He cleared his throat. “But listen to me prattling on when we should be making haste to Castrum Oriens. There's no point you telling me everything now when you'll only have to say it all again for the Flame General's benefit.”

“It isn't far now,” Lyse said. She glanced over at me.

“I'll go ahead, then, let 'em know. The others might've arrived too – they would have flown straight, or so I'd assume.”

“Right, then.” Lyse nodded, and I gently nudged Midnight into a run.

I got there in time to see Alisaie, Alphinaud, and M'Naago handing off their birds to be stabled.

“I wish I could go with him. It would be utterly self-defeating, but I would do it nevertheless,” I heard Alphinaud saying as I came close enough to talk to them.

Alisaie snorted, and her words were tart. “There's nothing wrong with wanting something stupid, so long as you don't act on it.” But she patted her brother's arm. “Remember that there are other ways you can help her.” 

“I know, I know.” He sighed and tugged at his bangs. “There's naught to be gained from giving in to my emotions. I need to stay calm and composed. Krile herself would say as much.”

His sister nodded, and M'Naago spoke up. “Ephemie and the others at the Rising Stones are looking after Y'shtola now. We need not fear for her safety.”

“As for Krile,” Alisaie added, “everything that can be done is being done. It falls to the rest of us to carry on the fight.”

The three of them glanced at me and I nodded silently, falling into step with them. Alphinaud's fingers brushed mine for an instant – a fleeting touch, but comforting nonetheless. I let my fingers curl just long enough to press against his, and then we were all shuffling for positions around the big command table.

Raubahn let us get sorted out, then looked first at me. “I know you are eager to speak of our next move, but we would first hear more of your last. Tell us of your deeds in Doma.”

I _knew_ he had had reports from Tataru; and even more details had been in Alphinaud's satchel, two slim notebooks filled with meticulous notes, observations, even speculations.

_But Kemp hasn't seen any of that and probably knows nothing_. I saw the gleam in the General's eye. _And he wants me to put heart in them for the next big push_. “All right,” I answered.


	6. Taking Velodyna

It took more time than I wanted it to, but less time than it could have, to relate everything we had accomplished in the Far East. I let the other three do the bulk of the telling, adding only a few details – such as the gods-awful things that had been done to Grynewaht, and the twisted magitek weaponry we had faced. There were some concerned mutters, but Alphinaud was able to soothe the others with assurances that he had made what notes he could about those monstrosities, the better to be able to study them and defend against them. The sun was sliding down behind the cliffs by the time I added the last detail, that Doma was sending a representative to discuss how they might aid the effort here in Gyr Abania.

There was a short, thoughtful silence, and then Commander Kemp looked up at Raubahn. “News of Doma should be going through the provinces like wildfire,” he observed. “The Imperials will be distracted at the very least. At best, too distracted to pay attention to what we do here. Yes?”  
Raubahn nodded. “Or perhaps, too busy to listen to any message Zenos might send to his father. Zenos cannot be in the Emperor's good graces, having lost Doma. But there is yet one obstacle in our way...”

“The castellum,” Alphinaud said, with a small nod of his own. His eyes were lighting up, eager to hear the General's plan.

“The success of this operation is paramount. So long as the Empire holds Castellum Velodyna, the main host cannot advance.” Raubahn took up a long metal baton, and tapped the map on the table with it. “Zenos knows this, which is why he has ordered Fordola and her men to see to the bridge's defense.”

Lyse cracked her knuckles. “So we'll get to fight the Skulls again.”

Raubahn gave her a stern look. “The Butcher is not to be underestimated. She is decisive, ruthless, and feared by foes and friends alike.” He smiled slightly, then. “But we have a plan to defeat her.” He indicated the road marked on the map. “First, we send an Alliance force down the main road, signaling our intention to mount an all-out assault. The garrison will muster their forces and prepare for a protracted battle...” A swirl of the baton, indicating how the Imperial troops would flow out of the castellum to attack. “However, they will soon find that we are ill prepared for their counterattack. Our men will begin to break ranks and flee.” There was a sly tone to that last word.

Conrad smiled, slowly. “I see... Show them your backs and give them a target too tempting not to pursue.”

“Aye,” Raubahn rumbled. “Fordola is too aggressive not to press the advantage. She will order her men to give chase.” He shifted the baton, sketching a rough path away from the castellum and down into the swamps. “We lure them as far as East End, where the commanders will rally their forces and attempt to hold their ground. If all goes to plan, we should be able to keep the greater part of their garrison occupied.”

Conrad studied the map for a moment, while Alphinaud's eyes traveled from one point to another. I could practically see him doing calculations in his head. Both of them looked up at the same moment, but Kemp was the one who spoke. “That leaves us to tackle the bridge's remaining defenders. Very clever, I'm sure. But what are we to do if the imperials smell a rat and return before we've taken the place?”

Raubahn smiled widely, a wolfish smile, and I heard Alphinaud say under his breath, “A-ha!”

“I don't need you to take Velodyna, Commander Kemp. All I need is for you to fly your flag from its tower.”

Alphinaud snapped his fingers. “You mean to  _ trick _ them into believing that the bridge has fallen!” His eyes danced with wicked glee, and Kemp, who had been frowning, suddenly grinned.

“Aye.” The General's teeth gleamed in the wash of light from the setting sun. “We convince them Velodyna is lost, hit them hard with our reinforcements, and watch them go running for the hills. Then, when the dust has settled, we regroup at the castellum. What say you?”

Kemp eyed the map, rubbing his chin, but he didn't contemplate for long. “It's a bold plan...but a good one. We'll do it.”

Alphinaud's voice was full of fire. “In that case, we shall support both the Resistance and the Alliance forces.” He looked towards Lyse and me. “Berylla, Lyse, I ask that you and Arenvald accompany Commander Kemp. Alisaie and I will remain with the Flame General.”

Alisaie raised one eyebrow at her brother, but nodded. Alphinaud's eyes met mine, and when I nodded without hesitation, I saw the minute relaxation in his shoulders. He wanted to  _ fight _ , not just plan – and I knew I had to let him do it.

_ He won't thank me for protecting him now, just as he wouldn't have thanked me for fretting over him during the assault on Doma Castle. I could wish for a moment alone...but there isn't time, not now _ .

“We will make ready and be on the move just after dawn,” Raubahn told us.

Conrad nodded. “We will return to Rhalgr's Reach and make our preparations. As soon as they are complete, we will join you in the field. Gods-speed!”

He turned on his heel and made for the mounts; Lyse and I followed him without waiting to say good-bye. I glanced over once, as I settled myself in Midnight's saddle, but Alphinaud was already bent over the battle map, intensely discussing something with Pipin.

_ He's looking for work to do, to keep him from fretting more over Krile and Nightbird. I can't blame him _ .

Conrad signaled, and we all took off in a ragged group to head back to the Reach.

There was nothing much for me to do – Conrad had his men well organized, and with Lyse and M'Naago both there to lend a hand, I was just plain superfluous.

But there was someone I wanted to talk to... I walked out into the twilight, and headed for the stone walkway that led to the gigantic statue of Rhalgr. A blond haired figure sat halfway along the walk, staring into the water.

“Arenvald.”

The blond Scion looked up at me. Even in the dimming light I could see the expression he wore, as if he awaited execution.

“Get up.”

He obeyed, without a word. His eyes met mine without flinching.

“Nightbird is like a sister to me.” I spoke through a clenched jaw. “An' you lost her.”

“You have every right to be angry with me.” Arenvald looked as if he were bracing for me to punch him.

“ _Angry?_ ” Thunder filled my head. “You think all I am is angry?”

He winced at my tone but he didn't evade me when I reached out and grabbed his shirt. I hauled him forward until our faces were just inches apart.

“ _Zenos has her_ , Arenvald.” I shook him, just a little, once. “I'm pissed about it, yeah. But not at you, and I'm way more scared than I am pissed. Scared for her, for Krile. _Damn_ scared. I wanna run out there right fucking now and go save them and I _can't_.” I stopped myself and took a couple of breaths. “As for you.”

I let him go abruptly, making him stagger.

“I have one thing to say to you.”

He lifted his head, waiting.

I set one hand on his shoulder, and leaned forward. My other hand went around the back of his head. I leaned my forehead against his, and my eyes half shut as I fought down my own feelings. “Find her. Save her.” My voice broke. “Save them both. Thancred's already out looking for them, but when he calls you – you by the fucking gods _go_ , go and help him. Don't let them...”

Tears stood in his eyes. “Yes.” His arm went around my shoulders, awkward but sincere. We leaned against each other for a bit, then I let him go.

“I'm sorry if I made you feel like shit,” I told him, but he waved his hand.

“You had reason. I should have done better...though I'll be damned if I know how.” He sat back down, and I sat beside him.

He picked up a pebble from the walkway and skipped it across the water. “The Echo...” He sighed. “Alphinaud called it an advantage, but in truth, it was a liability. The vision left me reeling, and Fordola seized the opening to push past and snatch up Krile. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” I told him. “Just be ready for Thancred's call.”

“At least Y'Shtola is safe,” he sighed. “But it's still anyone's guess when she'll be strong enough to take to the field.”

I nudged his shoulder with mine. “I bet she's just full of piss and vinegar about it, too.”

He snorted a laugh. “I admit, I was glad that I didn't have to keep up a conversation with her.” He glanced at me. “Nightbird and I spent some time talking. She had a lot of questions for me about how I grew up. It was strange... I got the feeling she knows a lot more about how Imperials act towards the people they conquer.”

“I don't know the whole story,” I answered, “but she told me once that her whole family was enslaved by the Imperials when she was very small. I don't know how she got away. She doesn't talk about it, of course.”

“Of course.” He swallowed. “And I understand why you're so afraid for the two of them. The men that Zenos picks to serve under his command are all...”

“Sick,” I supplied. “Sick bastards that will leap to obey any twisted command that Zenos gives them. Sick from fear or sick enough to enjoy it, it doesn't matter – they might as well be tempered.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Thank the Twelve he doesn't have something like the Eyes of Nidhogg,” I murmured.

Arenvald sat up a little, and waved one hand; I looked over and saw Lyse striding towards us. She had a big flat basket in her arms. She stopped, not getting onto the walkway, and cocked her head at the two of us. The breeze changed direction then, and I could smell something appetizing.

Arenvald stood up, and offered me his hand. I took it and levered myself up onto my feet.

“It's bad form to eat dinner on holy ground,” he joked with me, and I rolled my eyes. But I followed him down to join Lyse, and she took us over to one of the bigger tents that had a collection of old rugs laid on the ground in front of it. An iron brazier stood in the middle of those rugs, and we sat down around it, glad of the warmth now. The desert was cold at night to begin with, and with autumn well started, pretty soon there would be frost on the stones every morning.

_We had better get this over with fast. I have no idea what Gyr Abania is like in the winter, but I'm betting it won't be good for fighting_.

The flat basket held bread, sliced onions, a little pot of mashed avocado, and another little pot of greens that had been stewed with dried salted meat. It wasn't the most amazing thing I'd ever eaten, and for an instant I wondered if I could put together the stuff I'd need for making some of the Steppe food. But, my mind was taken off of such speculation when Arenvald produced a paper-wrapped package of Limsan candies.

I wasn't as fond of sweets as Aymeric, it was true – but I hadn't had hardly anything sweet in months. The Domans had few such treats, and we'd be more than busy enough that I hadn't been exactly hunting for sugary things. I took two of the candies without a blush.

“Thanks, Arenvald.”

“Consider it a coming home gift.” Then he laughed a little at my expression, as I popped one of the candies into my mouth.

Lyse cracked up, too. “Wonder if a certain someone has seen that look on your face yet.”

I blushed, glad the fire covered up some of it. “Oh, shut up.” But I was laughing, too.

We all had to share the same tent, but after the day I'd had, I was too tired to even blink twice. I set aside my axe and took off my jacket, folding it to make a pillow, and tugged the thin blanket over myself. Before Arenvald had even finished getting out of his armor, I was out cold.

We were awake a good bit before dawn, but the kid that was going round waking everyone up also was passing out hot food – bread rolls stuffed with a spicy mixture of egg and meat. _I probably don't want to ask what meat it is, but it'll do_. We got ready, and headed out, chewing on our rolls as we made for the main tent.

Mist rose off the water around the great statue, making everything on the far side of the canyon hard to see. The sky was just a little overcast, the clouds skittering across the stars like a veil that had been shredded and tossed away on the wind. But the eastern sky was pale, and not even a little bit pink. It was going to be a clear day.

M'Naago met us as we got to the tent, and handed each of us a beat-up tin mug; then she poured steaming hot coffee into each mug. We drank, with murmurs of thanks. Between the food and the coffee, I felt warm and awake and ready to go. M'Naago grinned at me as she passed the coffee pot off to someone else. “I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this! It's going to be grand!”

Conrad rapped on the table, getting everyone's attention. I glanced around, and realized that what I was seeing was simply all the captains – the Resistance really had added a whole lot more men to their roster while we had been gone.

“Most all of you know the plan already,” he said. “You're all to get your units ready to go.” Most of the people around the table saluted and headed off at a trot. Then, Kemp turned to us. His eyes twinkled as he looked at me. “In case you haven't noticed, the flag flying above Velodyna is bloody massive. It'd take a dozen men to change it, and far too long besides. But there's no need for all that─right, M'naago?”

She chuckled. “Not so long as I have my griffin and a satchel of glamour prisms, no!”

I raised my eyebrows, getting it. She'd fly up, cast the illusion over the flag, and...

“Arenvald,” Kemp said, “you're in charge of the runners between us and the Alliance. No link-pearls.”

The paladin nodded and gave Kemp a salute before heading off.

“Lyse, I want you to look in on the squadrons─make sure they've got everything they need. Everybody clear?”

Lyse and M'Naago chorused, “Aye, sir!”

Kemp nodded, satisfied. “All forces are to depart for Castellum Corvi when ready. That will be all.”

Both of the women strode away with a bounce in their steps.

“Berylla, stay with me a moment, if you would.”

I bent my head in a slight nod, and waited.

“There's a few men I'd like you to look in on personally. Each of them has lost people, and I can tell that it weighs on their hearts.” He held up one hand, with three fingers extended. “There have been a lot of new faces since last you were here, so it's best if I just tell you where to look. One's an officer you'll find in the Barber, another's an older fellow who likes to pass the time on the shore of Starfall. The last is a fiery young lad from Little Ala Mhigo, who I'm told trains by himself by the river to the Fringes. You'll know them when you see them. Come and find me when you've finished.”

“Right.”

As it turned out, all three of the fellows Conrad had sent me to hunt out were folks I had helped once before – a fellow from the Flames who was more than pleased to be asked to fight for his homeland, and the devout man whose talisman I'd helped locate.

The youngster from Little Ala Mhigo was someone I had seen before as well, though not here in the Reach. “I doubt you remember me, but I'll never forget you─saved my life in Little Ala Mhigo, you did.”

“I do remember. I'm glad I was able to help.” I shifted, thinking of the other young man from Little Ala Mhigo, that I hadn't been able to save when he needed me...

“Ever hear about what happened to Wilred? Joined the Braves when they came calling, only to turn up dead one day. Never found out how or why, but I reckon it doesn't matter. Dead's dead, after all.” As I blinked at him, slightly bemused by his accepting attitude, he shrugged. “But at least he died doing what he thought was right. And maybe that's the best folks like us can hope for, eh?”

Then he grinned and flourished with his sword. “Not that I'm in any hurry, mind!”

I had to laugh along with him, then, and left him to finish his morning warm-up.

I walked back to the main tent, thinking. _Almost three years now I've been doing this. How many people have I helped? How many have I saved? I shook my head. Maybe I should take a break from only remembering the ones I failed, the ones I lost._

Kemp nodded to me as I came up to the table where he stood. “You've had a word with those men, then?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck a little. “It was enlightening in a way.”

“As I'm sure you noticed, they've another thing in common aside from tragedy: you've touched each of their lives in one way or another. But that's not the reason I wanted you to speak with them.” He counted on his fingers again. “A man who's lived in Gyr Abania his entire life, who bore witness to the realities of the occupation for twenty unbroken years. A man who fled Ala Mhigo in search of a new life, who swore to serve another nation, only for fate to conspire to send him back here. A youth born on foreign soil, who never knew his parents' homeland, yet nevertheless felt kinship with our cause. Three men, three stories, three reasons. Yet all belong to the Resistance.”

He gestured out at the canyon. “In growing larger, we've grown more diverse, and while there is good in that, there's also the potential for strife and discord. It'd take a special sort to lead such men to Ala Mhigo, don't you think?”

_He can't mean me_. I glanced at him and saw a twinkle in his eyes. _He can't mean just himself, either_. It made me wince inwardly to think it, but Kemp was old. He might be able to last out this war, but he would have to step down eventually. He had his eye on someone as a successor... _Oh_.

“Someone like Lyse, you mean?”

He nodded, well satisfied with my answer. “Aye. As you may have guessed, I've been thinking of asking Lyse.”

I nodded. _It would have to be. She learned a hell of a lot out on the Steppe. But did she learn enough? Did she lose her taste for leadership? She's the only one who can answer that_.

“I see we're of one mind. She'll have to make the decision for herself, of course.” Kemp leaned both his hands on the table and fixed me with his gaze. “You've traveled with her. Been by her side when she's had to make hard choices. You've seen her at her worst and her best. If you think she's got it in her, then she does.”

I didn't even need to think about it. “If she wants to do it, she's got what it takes.”

Conrad nodded. Then he held out his hand to me. “Look after her, Berylla. She's our future, and my hope.”

I took his hand and shook it. “You can believe I will do my damnedest.”

He grinned briefly at that, and then cleared his throat. “I trust I needn't say that this conversation is just between you and me?” At my amused snort of agreement, he nodded one last time. “Good girl. Right, then─we'd best head to Castellum Corvi. Or what remains of it, rather.”

We arrived at the ruined castellum just as the first rays of true dawn began to creep over the eastern cliffs. Lyse was standing near the gateway, gazing out towards our objective. Every line of her spoke of determination. I let her alone.

Arenvald was inspecting his shield, not that it needed it. I paused by him, and set my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me, and his voice was quiet but firm. “I'll prove to them that it wasn't a mistake.” He swallowed and looked down. “That I wasn't a mistake.”

I saw M'Naago, standing with a truly gorgeous beast, and stepped over to her.

She smiled, and the great bird-like creature bent its head to fix me with one brilliant eye. I had heard of griffins, but this was the first real live one I had ever seen.

“Beautiful,” I murmured. The griffin clacked its beak a little and made a pleased sound. Its voice was less shrill than a chocobo's, rumbling in its chest. It had wide, powerful wings, just as huge as a yol's wings – wings that would be well able to lift its somewhat cat-like body into the air. Between the massive beak and the claws on all four feet, I could well imagine the kind of carnage this beauty could wreak on a battlefield. _Damn, I want one_.

“Her name is Obda,” M'Naago told me, scratching the griffin's neck feathers. “We've known each other since we were small. We'll be going on this mission together.”

“Then I think you'll do just fine,” I told her. “But I might be wanting to talk to you about this gal later, eh?”

The Miqo'te winked at me. “Anytime!”

I went over to stand beside Conrad. “Any moment now...” he murmured.

Sudden shouting – and then the crack of rifles. _That's our cue_.

“Quickly now! We've got to reach Velodyna before General Aldynn and his men are overwhelmed!”

The whole force of us loped forward, not running too fast but not wasting time either. Behind us, I heard the rush of enormous wings, and knew that Obda and M'Naago had taken to the skies.

We hadn't gone a hundred yards when Lyse shouted. “Scouts!”

Arenvald and I charged forward as one, and took out the three scouts in seconds. But I didn't stop there. All the rage and fear that I had been shoving down transmuted into a fire in my blood. Enemies lay at my feet, but there were more between me and what I wanted – and what I wanted, right now, was that damn bridge. I ran forward, axe ready and teeth bared in a savage grin.

Lyse shouted behind me. “What are you doing, Berylla?! Stay close!”

But Arenvald knew better. “She's gone on ahead, just go after her!”

The paladin caught up to me as we came in sight of the castellum gates, which stood wide open. I could see that there were inner gates too, and both of us saw the Imperial soldiers – and machina – that stood lined up in that space.

There were no more than twenty.

“They left behind a token force!” Arenvald shouted back towards the rest. “Nothing we can't handle!”

I set my feet and then flung myself forward, slamming into the line of soldiers.

Chaos erupted.

Soldiers screamed and machines whirred. I broke the legs out from underneath one of the armored units, and finished off the operator. As I lifted my axe I heard Lyse shout a warning.

_ “Cannons!” _


	7. The Sweet Sound of Victory

The cannons were no match for me and Lyse. Between the two of us, we took out the battery of three cannons before they ever got around to aiming skyward at the screeching griffin that spiraled up and up towards the tower.

After the cannons, we finished off the last of the war-machina. The other fighters around us were ganging up on the two Skulls that had come out while Lyse and I had been destroying machinery.

Fordola and four more Skulls appeared at the top of the ramp. The red-haired commander scowled down at the chaos and snarled an order, and her thugs charged forward and joined the fray. Every one of our people was tied up fighting – and I saw two of the newcomers heading straight for Kemp, even as Fordola herself started down the ramp.

“Protect him!” I called to Lyse, and she nodded, dashing to Kemp's side as I ran forward.

No one, not even the Skulls, were willing to get between Fordola and me. If the look on my face was anything like the look on hers, I didn't exactly blame them. I recalled how she'd tied Lyse, how she had murdered Meffrid, and my blood boiled.

_Time to trounce this little bitch_.

“None of you are leaving here alive!” Fordola screamed, and then she flung herself at me in the same devastating charge that had ended Meffrid.

But I had seen more fearsome things than one petite Hyur with an inflated sense of importance. I had faced down Magnai of the Oronir, and lived to tell the tale.

I dodged away from her blade and let her continue past me, hearing her steps stagger for an instant. I wasn't quite fast enough, though, to catch her with my swing as I turned around.

Her lips peeled back from her teeth in a feral grimace, and she palmed something on her belt. Then she lifted her sword once more, and I saw that it was not the scimitar she had used at the Reach.

“Meet my new friend!” she hissed at me, and fired the gunblade.

An aether-charged bullet hung in the air, power streaking off of it in a strange star shape, and I blinked in surprise. _What the?_

Then I had to scramble, because she came charging at me while I was distracted. I felt the edge of the blade graze my shoulder, and cursed.

Even as I got myself straightened out, there was a vicious sounding buzz in the air around me, and Fordola laughed once.

Four magitek bits dropped down, their turrets pointed at me.

“You really are a cheating little fucking _bitch_ ,” I snarled as I dashed past them, getting myself behind their muzzles just in time to avoid being roasted by the flames that belched outward.

She charged in again, and we exchanged blows for a few moments. I was so focused on trying to break through her guard that I didn't notice the way she was moving, maneuvering me into position.

My Echo warned me – my aether snapped up into a shield of power – and that hovering bullet that I had almost forgotten about slammed forward into me. It hit so hard that the shield of aether shattered and I was knocked backwards. I grunted in pain. _That's definitely gonna leave bruises_.

“I'm going to present your scalp to Lord Zenos,” Fordola crowed, coming for my throat. The gunblade's edge caught the sunlight.

_Oh, I don't fucking think so_.

I reversed my axe and struck. Fordola still didn't wear much in the way of leg armor. _Lyse would never forgive me if I chopped this bitch's leg off and she bled out before we could question her._ So instead I struck hard at her knees, knocking her legs out from under her.

I had to give her credit, she had fast reflexes and some serious acrobatic training. She shrieked as she went down, but somehow writhed in midair and turned her fall into a handspring that launched her a good fifteen feet away from me.

Her magitek bits took aim at me again, and she reached into a pouch and tossed something at me, something about the size of an egg that burst at my feet and erupted into acid-green flames.

I scrambled out of the way of fire from two directions; I smelled burning hair. _Too damn close that time._ Rage blurred my vision with red for an instant.

After that, neither of us bothered with words. Growls and howls and shrieks and the scream of metal against metal became the only accompaniment to our dance. She threw ceruleum fire at me, but the patches of burning stuff sputtered out quickly. Her stupid little machines kept trying to shoot me, and I kept right on getting myself behind them before their dimwitted programming could register that I wasn't there anymore.

Fordola was quick as a mink and twice as vicious, and though she did no more than mark me with shallow cuts a couple of times, I had yet to do more than knock her around a little bit.

_I've had enough of this!_

I saw her gunblade glow, and knew what was next – another of those strange hovering bullet shots.

I let her fire, then charged straight through the cross-shaped flare of aether. It stung as I passed but did not activate the bullet's real attack, and Fordola was caught flat footed and gaping.

I let my body slam directly into her own.

She went flying, landing sprawled on her back, wheezing for an instant. I was twice her mass, I had not been fucking around – and I wasn't done. She barely managed to sit up before I reached her again. This time, I unleashed the attack on her that I had used against Sadu, back at the Nadaam. Sparks flew as my aether surged through my blade, and Fordola cried out and scrambled back on her haunches, then rolled to her feet.

She was bleeding in several places now, including from her nose and a cut along her cheek; her hair was full of the yellowish dust that we had been kicking up, and her eyes blazed.

“Gods damn you – ”

Lyse was abruptly beside me, fists raised, and I realized that the rest of the fight had ended while I tussled with Fordola. Only two Skulls remained, and three regular Imperial soldiers, and they were edging back, clearly ready to give up.

“No more running!” Lyse shouted at the commander. “No more hiding! Let's finish this!”

I lifted my axe, more than willing to end more than just this fight.

The sweet call of a hunting horn resounded across the landscape, drawing every eye. Even Fordola looked up, mouth dropping open in shock. High above us, a tiny figure stood on top of the standard that held the massive flag, blowing her horn for all she was worth. _M'Naago!_

The Imperial flag had been transformed: the colors of Gyr Abania, of the Resistance, flew proudly under the sun and gently undulated in the breeze. Obda screamed, a joyous sound, as she flew in a wide circle around the tower, a display just as heartening as that flag.

Kemp called out. “The bridge is ours! Ala Mhigo! _Ala Mhigo!_ ” His words drew a mighty shout of victory from the Resistance fighters around me. _**“ALA MHIGO!”**_

The Skulls and the last of the Imperials on the bridge flung down their weapons and ran.

Swearing viciously, Fordola also turned tail and fled. Lyse and I both started after her.

Alphinaud was glad he had chosen to fight beside the Alliance forces, but he had not quite realized the chaos that was a field battle like this one. The records and memoirs he had read always made such fights seem very clear cut, even when ground was hotly contested.

They did not mention the heat, the sounds of feet shuffling, weapons clashing, men grunting or screaming in pain, or the particular and horrid sounds of certain sorts of injury. Nothing he had read had ever mentioned the gods-awful smells either – the strange tang of blood on the air, the sizzle and stink of ozone as one of the Imperial signifers targeted him with a lightning spell.

He had fought pitched battles before – the Steps of Faith, holding the line with the Temple Knights against the maddened beasts of the Horde, had been a fight fully as fierce as this. But there were no dragons here, no gouts of flame, not even very many machina remained, for they had been the first casualties – falling to clever traps laid for them in the path that the Alliance “retreating force” had led them along.

Here there were only men and women, and screams, and guts spilling out onto the dusty ground. The scent of crushed grass and pine needles mingled weirdly with the stench of innards and ceruleum and it made him faintly ill.

But he pushed through all of it. His carbuncle Noir dashed around him, snarling as it used tooth and claw to the best effect it could, hamstringing enemies to keep them away from its master. He cast what spells of ruin and pain he could, but he kept his eyes open for any wounded he could reach – ah, _there!_

The archer had gone down on a knee, gasping, clutching an arm made useless by a bullet wound. The scholar dashed over to her and set his hand on her shoulder. Noir zipped away for an instant and knocked over the soldier who was taking aim at them. Once on the ground, the carbuncle went for the throat, and the man shrieked, then gargled on his own blood, and died.

All of it was over before Alphinaud's spell completed.

The archer stood, and gave him a quick nod of thanks before scampering off to find a bit of higher ground. In moments her arrows sang out once more over the chaos.

But the Imperials had numbers in their favor, and slowly the tide was turning against the Alliance. Alphinaud found himself near the middle of a knot of men, slowly bunching up and backing away – a wedge had formed among the Imperials – they were about to charge, and the Alliance forces were too close together to avoid the carnage that would surely ensue.

He began to weave a spell of protection, knowing it could never cover everyone, and feeling his aether beginning to wane.

Behind them, a bellow.

Then, sunlight on gold and steel and a dark mass of furious Highlander crashed past them and into the Imperial wedge, shattering the formation and felling half a dozen Imperials by sheer force of impact. The lesser pilus who had been nominally leading the charge fell backwards with a shriek, and then died as Raubahn's sword cleanly separated head from shoulders.

The rest of the Imperials paused for an instant as the Bull of Ala Mhigo roared at them, a sound so savage and terrible that it made even Alphinaud's insides want to turn to water for a moment.

But every one of the Alliance fighters took heart from that mighty roar, and swords came up, bows nocked, and a rumble seemed to come from all around him, like an echo of thunder.

They might not be able to beat back all the Imperials, after all. But they would take out as many of the enemy as they could before they fell.

A moment of breathless silence – the air shuddering with anticipation – as Imperials and Alliance faced off... and then the sound of a horn, floating across the morning sky. The sweetest sound he had heard for hours.

The Imperials shuffled back, confused, and their commanding officer looked around. He made a startled gargling sound when he saw the flag now flying from the tower at Castellum Velodyna. “What?! Impossible!”

He staggered backwards a few steps and his men followed suit. Weapons lowered, and mutters seemed to hiss among the troops like snakes of uncertainty.

“Regroup!” The pilus' voice was shrill, just shy of panicking. “We must regroup! Fall back! _Fall back!!_ ”

To a man, the Imperials turned around and began to run.

Raubahn gestured with his sword. “After them! Show no mercy!”

With a bloodthirsty roar, the Alliance troops surged forward.

Raubahn himself stood still, and Alphinaud approached the big Highlander, his steps weary. The General turned and saw him, and smiled. “Let us take ourselves to Bittermill,” he said. “That shall be our rendezvous point. My men already know what to do from here, and you look like you could use a bit of rest, lad.”

Alphinaud thought about protesting that he was fine, and then noticed that Noir was limping. He scooped the carbuncle up into his arms, and nodded to the General. “Lead the way, sir.”

Alisaie met them on their way. She was splattered with blood, but none of it seemed to be hers, from the way she grinned at him. The three of them didn't speak as they walked the final few yards to the abandoned village – a sad collection of four or five burned out houses among the trees. He did not know the full story of this place, but just standing among the ruins was unnerving. He felt sure there would be ghosts here, if ever ghosts could be real. He wisely kept silent on the matter, however. He was hot, and tired, and in no mood for his sister's teasing.

Instead he bent his attention to Noir, inspecting the little carbuncle's limbs and tails, and gently repairing the damage done. The obsidian carbuncle was tough, but not indestructible. Noir trilled quietly and pressed its side against its master, holding still for Alphinaud's ministrations.

The moment he was finished, however, the creature abandoned him and scampered over to Alisaie. He shook his head, but smiled, as his sister picked Noir up and cuddled it close for a moment. “Good boy,” she whispered to it, and Noir's ears wiggled with delight.

“You are quite the most spoiled of creatures,” he told Noir, pretending to be annoyed. The carbuncle cheeped, and then winked at him, cheekily, and rubbed itself against Alisaie's face. He could not help but laugh. Then he came over and joined Alisaie in giving Noir the caresses it craved. It had certainly earned a little indulgence.

Petting and praising the little construct kept them busy as they waited. The General stood still, patient as a stone, though Alphinaud did see him smile once or twice at Noir and its antics.

When the first messengers returned, Alisaie set the carbuncle down and let it run off to begin investigating the area.

“Sir! The Imperial troops broke and ran and have scattered into many small groups. We are chasing down the ones that we can, but there may be a few who succeeded in hiding among the terrain.”

“Very good. Send a runner to the bridge, with my compliments to Commander Kemp, and request that he send the Warrior of Light to me, at his convenience.” The messenger saluted sharply, turned on her heel, and dashed off.

The General gave the twins a slight smile. “Though it's entirely likely that Berylla is already on her way here. She will be wanting to find out how our end of the fight went.”

Alisaie slanted a glance at him, but Alphinaud ignored the sly look and nodded to Raubahn. There would be some small amount of breathing room, now that they had accomplished their objective. Some small chance, to get Berylla alone for just a moment. He told himself that it would only be a moment to reassure her that he was fine. They needs must be most discreet, more so than in Doma.

He set his jaw and shoved away the niggling sense of frustration that wished so very much to throw discretion to the winds. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. For all that they had feelings for each other, they both remained Scions. Their lives were not entirely their own, and they had work to do that must come before any personal considerations.

The selfish little voice inside him sulked and pouted at this silent lecture, and curled up once more into relative quiet in the back of his mind.

Beside him, his sister snickered, very quietly.

Lyse and I had taken no more than half a dozen steps up the ramp in pursuit of Fordola when Kemp called us back. “Let her go! We did what we came here to do. That's enough for now.”

Lyse stopped, and after another step so did I. As I turned to look back at Kemp and the rest of the Resistance folks, I could feel the adrenaline fading back. My wounds began to sting. Pretty soon they would be screaming, the bad ones anyway. Slowly, Lyse and I walked back to Kemp. She sighed, and then shook herself, and went to go check on the others.

I saw Arenvald sitting with his back propped against the wall, looking worn out and a little singed but otherwise fine. I half smiled. _He's a good guy. I really need to make it up to him, for yelling at him like I did. Eventually_.

Kemp gave me a quick glance-over, and I set my axe over my shoulder. “I might look a little rough but I'm still good for a bit more,” I told him. “What do we need done, next?”

“There's still a chance that some imperials are holed up inside the castellum. We'll need to search it top to bottom to be sure it's safe.” He tucked his scepter back into its holder on his belt. “In the meantime, I want you to rendezvous with the main host. Keep your weapons at the ready─there's a chance you might come face–to–face with soldiers on the run en route.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting out across the landscape – what we could see of it from inside the walls. “On second thought, it might be prudent for you to do a preemptive sweep of the region for soldiers that have gone to ground. We shouldn't afford them any time to regroup and launch a counterattack.”

“Yeah, that's a good idea, and I can do that solo without any trouble.”

His mouth quirked up, but he just nodded. “When you've judged your work to be done, report to General Aldynn in Bittermill.”

 _So that's where they are. Good_. I nodded.

Kemp cocked his head. “Don't get too cocky, now, lass. Just because we've won doesn't mean it's over yet. There're still enemies about, and a panicked soldier can kill you just as quick as a cool-headed one.”

“I know.” The words came out a bit sharp, and I smiled to take that edge off. “I'll be back in a bit, Commander.”

There were Imperials all right. As I made my way towards Bittermill I found two groups, holed up among bushes and rocks. They were cowering, desperate, and the minute they saw me, they attacked. I felt just a little ill as I killed them – these were all conscripts, _aan_ , drafted into this fight.

_They're all young and stupid...but I can't call them innocent. They may have been following orders, but they still killed a lot of actual innocents_.

But the whole thing left a bitter taste in my mouth. _If only we could safely recruit them to our side, dammit. We could always use good fighters, for so many things besides war_.

I reached Bittermill without finding a third pocket of stragglers, and the minute I saw Alphinaud and Alisaie, I pushed ethical questions out of my head and smiled at them. They looked a bit dirty, and disheveled, but they weren't hurt at all; the relief that washed over me made me giddy for a second.

I dragged my attention to Raubahn where it belonged, and gave him a little wave. I'd never quite figured out who I was supposed to really salute...and no one ever seemed to mind that I didn't bother. Then again, they were far more interested in what I could do, than in how well I could march.

“Well met. All's well at the bridge?” Raubahn's rumbling voice was full of satisfaction when I nodded. “Good, good. The fighting has died down here too, as you can see.”

Before he could say more, a runner came up, and he turned to take the fellow's report.

The look Alphinaud gave me made me feel warm in the cheeks. Still, he kept his voice casual. “The Bull of Ala Mhigo has done it again. His assessment of Fordola's response was without error.”

Alisaie smiled, a grin touched by wry humor. “It's a good thing M'Naago got the flag flying when she did. Any longer and those imperials might have had us at their mercy.”

I saw Alphinaud frown at her for an instant, and knew he hadn't wanted me to know that. But I had known good and damn well the sort of pitched battle that Raubahn's plan was going to require, and on some level, Alphinaud had known it too. This was war; danger was everywhere now more than ever. This was no different from any of the other dangerous missions that Alphinaud had handled back when he commanded the Braves. Just on a bigger scale...and it was going to take longer than a few days.

_They can handle themselves; they don't need me trying to protect them._ He and Alisaie were no longer children, if ever they had been in all the time I'd known them.

That didn't stop me from _wanting_ to keep them safe.

I reached out and grabbed them both, putting one arm across their shoulders. I pulled them in for a quick, hard hug, and felt them both hug me back. I let them go, and we all three turned to face the General just as he finished giving orders to the young messenger.

“Pipin left but a moment ago with a contingent of troops to occupy Velodyna. If and when the imperials return, they'll find us dug in behind their own walls,” Raubahn told us.

Alphinaud beamed at him. “I could not have hoped for a better outcome, General. Splendidly done.”

But Raubahn shook his head, and waved the compliment aside. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It'll take more than one castellum to turn the tide. My men and I will deal with the remaining enemy forces.” He nodded to us. “Scions, I bid you return to Commander Kemp and his men.” And with that, he gave us a brief salute, bringing his fist to his chest, and walked away.

“Delight not overmuch in victory─not when there are battles left to fight...” Alphinaud's voice was thoughtful. I wondered if he was quoting something. Then, he turned to look at me and Alisaie. “Our work here is finished. Our Resistance allies are waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am updating this twice a week - Tuesday and Thursday - assuming that life doesn't kick me in the kneecaps again.
> 
> Once again, I have to thank the Book Club for their unending support!
> 
> Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club  
> Please come and join if you've a mind to do so!  
> https://discord.gg/8C6ZKTj


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